


Open Book

by Ceryna



Series: Kitakuroo Adventures [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Post-Canon, alSO PUNS, it's real cute i promise, pls give them a chance, some aren't that terrible, they get to know each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 06:09:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13944699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceryna/pseuds/Ceryna
Summary: Kita goes to his university's club fair to join the volleyball club, meets Kuroo, and finds out they're in the same literature class. One book swap, a session of volleyball tryouts, and meal later...***Kita arrives early to his 10:15 seminar on Japanese literature, taking a seat in the middle of the second row of tables. He pulls out a fresh blue Campus notebook and ballpoint pen, setting them on the table in front of him before reaching for his copy of Light, Wind and Dreams. Folding back a gently dog-eared page, he resumes reading where he left off.Minutes pass in silence, reading uninterrupted until a bag thunks into the seat beside him. “Fancy seeing you here, Kita-kun.”Kita dog-ears the page, sliding the novel shut before turning to greet Kuroo. “Good morning.” He eyes the book tucked under Kuroo’s arm with interest. “Is that Murakami?”





	Open Book

**Author's Note:**

  * For [All_My_Characters_Are_Dead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_My_Characters_Are_Dead/gifts).



> I've been sitting on this idea since before my midterms and have finally been able to bring it to life. 
> 
> For my writing pal, a friend, a treasure and bean unlike any other, Em: happy birthday!!!!!! <3 <3 I had a lot of fun with this, and hope you enjoy!!
> 
> Special thanks to @A_Sirens_Lullaby for betaing!!
> 
> p.s. come join me in shipping these two I started this and now i can't stop aaaaaaaa

 

If Kita thought high school club fairs were bad, Tokyo University’s was a madhouse. The sidewalk is jam-packed with new students and club members, almost worse than the Tokyo metro in rushhour. Club members carry signs affixed to long, cardboard posts that obscure the view of the swarm of students and club booths, and multicolored club flyers litter the pavement like oversize, dirty confetti.

 

He sighs. At least the volleyball club wasn't hard to find.

 

Kita’s worked hard to hone his ability to focus. A flip of a mental switch and the murmur of the crowd fades into the background, ears attuned to the distinct squeak of athletic sneakers on wooden floors and the familiar thud of a volleyball against upturned wrists. It's no surprise, then, that he's drawn to the person standing on the men's volleyball booth table, stuck in a self-induced loop of receives.

 

Kita’s gaze flicks from the guy’s worn, black athletic sneakers to blue and white Tokyo U athletic pants and a light grey T-shirt before reaching his face. His head is upturned, likely with a smile visible beneath a mess of dark hair. His knees dip slightly for balance as the volleyball descends, rising just a tad as the ball comes in contact with his arms, sending it skyward once again.

 

It's dramatic, but effective: the guy can be seen over the club signs and crowd, drawing people in whether or not they have an interest in the sport. Kita snorts. Shrugging his hands in his pockets to avoid accepting unwanted flyers, he starts making his way through the crowd.

 

*

 

Arriving at the booth, Kita discovers the guy's thighs--which are rather impressive--are right at his eye level. Not thinking much of the situation, he steps quickly to the side. The move places him face to face with a guy around his own height holding a clipboard. Upon seeing Kita, he raises an eyebrow. “Here for volleyball?”

 

Kita blinks, puzzled by the rhetorical question. “Yeah, I am. When are tryouts?”  

 

The guy lets out a laugh and extends his hand for a handshake. “I'm Ohashi Yuuto, vice captain and setter! Pleasure to meet you!”

 

Kita shakes Yuuto’s hand. “Kita Shinsuke. Wing spiker. It’s nice to meet you.”

 

Yuuto elbows the guy next to him, also in uniform. “This here is Suzui! And table guy is Kuroo.”

 

“Table guy, eh?” Kuroo says, leaping off the table to land next to Kita. “At least put a 'periodic’ in front of it.” He turns, extending a hand to Kita and then retracts it slightly, furrowing an eyebrow. “Aren't you from Inarizaki?”

 

Kita nods.

 

“I watched your match with Karasuno. You guys are incredible!”

 

It doesn't escape his notice that Kuroo used present tense. _Are._ “Thank you. That’s kind of you to say.” Kita offers the guy a genuine smile, and shakes his hand before the opportunity passes. “You're from Nekoma, then.”

 

Kuroo grins. “You're looking at a proud former captain!”

 

 _I’m the same as him, then. But this is university._ “You’re just another middle blocker now, though,” Kita remarks.

 

“GEH!” Kuroo steps back, placing a closed fist over his heart as if in pain. “You wound me, Kita-kun.”

 

“I’m just another wing spiker,” Kita admits. “The title of captain has passed on, and now we get our own fresh start.”

 

Yuuto laughs. “Have you two played a match?”

 

Kuroo frowns in consideration.

 

Kita recalls fuzzy memories of a game he watched as a first year, having traveled with the team to nationals. Even though he watched the match from the bench, it was still a fantastic experience. “Our schools have, but we haven’t,” he answers, then gestures to the clipboard. “May I fill out the signup sheet?”

 

Chuckling, Yuuto hands over the clipboard and offers Kita a pen. “Tryouts are Thursday evening starting at six, and they’ll be at our campus gym right here in Bunkyo.”

 

Kita takes care to make his handwriting extremely legible, penning down his name, phone number, and newly acquired university email. He returns the clipboard to Yuuto. “That's all you need for now?”

 

Yuuto skims over the form. “Yep!” he says brightly, offering Kita a peace sign. “We look forward to seeing you there!”

 

“Kuroo, you're back on table duty 'til Tatsu gets here,” Suzui says, presumably scrolling through a schedule on his phone. “Another fifteen minutes, at least.”

 

“That's periodic table duty, Suzui-san. Heh!” Kuroo snickers. “Hand me the volleyball, please.” He turns to Kita, blindly accepting the volleyball into his upturned palm. “See you around, Kita-kun!”

 

Kita nods, inclines his head to Yuuto, and steels his shoulders to navigate back through the sea of people to find his bike.

 

****

 

Kita arrives early to his 10:15 seminar on Japanese literature, taking a seat in the middle of the second row of tables. He pulls out a fresh blue Campus notebook and ballpoint pen, setting them on the table in front of him before reaching for his copy of _Light, Wind and Dreams_. Folding back a gently dog-eared page, he resumes reading where he left off.

 

Minutes pass in silence, reading uninterrupted until a bag thunks into the seat beside him. “Fancy seeing you here, Kita-kun.”

 

Kita dog-ears the page, sliding the novel shut before turning to greet Kuroo. “Good morning.” He eyes the book tucked under Kuroo’s arm with interest. “Is that Murakami?”

 

Kuroo's eyes light up, lips quirking into a mischievous grin. “I've been found,” he says, revealing the cover of _1Q84_. “You read sci-fi?”

 

“Occasionally.”

 

Kuroo plops into the seat next to him, setting his book on the table before rummaging through his bag. “You a lit major?”

 

“Technically ethics, but I like literature so here I am.” Kita shrugs, offering his book for Kuroo to inspect. “You’re on the chem track?”

 

“Did the periodic table references give it away?”

 

Kita huffs a quiet laugh. “Not really. The notebook you’re holding is labeled ‘organic chemistry’, so I figured.”

 

Kuroo checks his hands, and one is holding _Light, Wind and Dreams_ while the other is holding a maroon notebook. “Heh! Caught red-handed. Get it?” He pauses to wink. “The notebook’s red!”

 

Kita stares at Kuroo, a slight curl of his lip the only sign of his amusement.

 

Kuroo laughs, cheeks flushing momentarily. “That was pretty bad, eh?”

 

Kita, briefly reminded of the Miyas’ puns, shakes his head. “Trust me, I’ve heard worse.”

 

“I don’t know if I should be relieved,” Kuroo says, tucking the notebook away and running his fingers over the back cover of Kita’s book. “Convince me to read this book in one sentence!”

 

Kita raises an eyebrow, considering his next words carefully. “If you read Nakajima’s _Light, Wind and Dreams,_ I’ll read _1Q84.”_

 

Kuroo’s jaw drops. “Ehhh? You haven’t read--no, what?” He pokes Kita in the chest. “You’ve got a deal, Kita-kun. I’ll trade you my copy right now.”

 

Kita smirks, accepting Kuroo’s copy of the book, the cover worn under his fingertips. “Sounds good.” He returns the gesture, poking Kuroo in the ribs which elicits a high-pitched yelp. “Don’t lose my page.”

 

“Don’t lose my book.”

 

“I’ll have it back to you by next week’s lecture?” Kita tucks the novel carefully in his backpack, wedging it between notebooks, just as their professor abruptly slides the classroom door closed.

 

They both jump in their seats, Kuroo banging his knees on the underside of the table. He offers Kita an ok hand and faces forward, the lecture bringing the conversation to an end.

 

****

 

The next time Kita ran into Kuroo was at tryouts Thursday evening.

 

The tryouts went about how Kita expected them to. They began with introductions (through which he found out Kuroo was, in fact, recruited), transitioned into warmup and drills, matches with other interested students and then one with club team members. Kita played a total of six sets, during which he realized several things: he was in the majority of shorter players (those that were close to Japan’s national average height of 171 cm), his skill set is approximately above average as compared to that of his expected primary candidates for club recruitment, and perhaps most importantly, volleyball at UTokyo had the potential to be just as fun as it was at Inarizaki--and perhaps slightly more relaxing, as he was no longer responsible for the Miya twins’ antics.

 

The real surprise came after tryouts, when Kita retrieves his bike from the stands outside the gym.

 

“Yo, Kita-kun.”

 

Kita glances over his shoulder at Kuroo, shrugging his gym bag into the basket on the back of his bike. “Hello, Kuroo-san.”

 

“Just Kuroo is fine.”

 

“Okay, Just Kuroo, what can I do for you?”

 

Kuroo lets out a loud guffaw, coughs, and clears his throat. “I’m going to grab some curry for dinner. Wanna join?”

 

Kita blinks. “Is it far?”

 

“Nah, just a few blocks.”

 

“Sure.” Kita pushes up the kickstand, walking his bike over and falling into step with Kuroo.

 

Kuroo leads Kita in the general direction of Ueno, quiet as they approach a crosswalk. As they slow to a halt, he breaks the silence. “So what brings you here all the way from Kobe?”

 

Kita chuckles. “You’re the first person to ask me that, you know? Framing it the other way around. Rather than what I’m leaving behind, what I stand to gain.”

 

The crosswalk sign flashes green, chirping at them that it’s safe to cross. “I’m several steps closer to where I want to be,” Kita continues. “I’m not at UTokyo just because of a scholarship, or because I wanted to get away from friends and family. Studying ethics is…” Kita pauses at another crosswalk, gazing up and smiling bitterly at the light pollution masking the stars. “I love this city, and Japan, but some things need to change. Not for the sake of ‘catching up’ with the rest of the world, but to do the ‘right things’, whatever those may be.”

 

Kuroo whistles. “That was deep, man. Poetic, even. I’m impressed.” He laughs quietly, the sound tinged with just a hint of bitterness. “Makes me just doing what I love seem pretty small.”

 

“The smallest things often pave the way for the greatest changes,” Kita says quietly. “It’s a balance.” He glimpses a bright storefront, plaque on the sidewalk advertising curry specials. “Is this the place?”

 

“Yeah,” Kuroo says, voice faint. “Hope you like curry.”

 

Kita smiles. “It’s my favorite.”

 

*

 

The interior is dimly lit, wooden tables and floors accented by yellow and orange floral fabric-covered booths. The two of them take the corner booth just inside the doorway, setting their bags on the wall side and sliding in next to them.

 

“You’ve been here before?” Kita asks, flipping through the menu.

 

“Mhmm.” Kuroo says, opening his menu briefly before closing it again. “Any of the dopazyas are good. My personal favorite is the seafood curry, though.”

 

Kita skims the specials page, registering the words ‘unlimited naan’ at the top. “Unlimited naan,” he says slowly, eyes wide. “That’s… that’s great.”

 

“Know what you want?”

 

Kita nods, and Kuroo flags down their waiter. He gestures to Kita to order first.

 

“I’ll take the mutton dopazya special, please. With a mango lassi and naan.”

 

“How spicy would you like that?”

 

Kita eyes the scale from one to ten listed at the bottom of the page. “Nine, please.”

 

“And for you?”

 

Kuroo is frozen, mouth gaping at Kita. _“Nine?”_

 

“Kuroo.”

 

“...Right. Um, a seafood curry special, please. Mango lassi and naan.”

 

“How spicy?”

 

“...Six.”

 

Kita snorts. “Are you sure?”

 

“...Please make it a three.”

 

Only after their server disappears back into the kitchen does Kita dare to laugh, holding his sides as he shakes.

 

“Oya?” Kuroo says, drumming his fingers on the table. “I was that funny?”

 

Kita nods, sucking in air to recover. “You should’ve seen your face…” He struggles to imitate the level of surprise that went into Kuroo’s exclamation of “nine” before sitting back and composing himself. “I can’t replicate it,” he says, frowning slightly.

 

Kuroo chuckles. “Thanks for trying.”

 

Their server presents them with their drinks and a starting salad, which the two scarf down before their curry bowls appear, followed by a basket with their naan. Kita sets about tearing off part of his naan, dipping it in his curry and savoring the blend of flavors and spices he tastes. “Want to try the _nine?”_

 

Kuroo looks up at Kita with a sheepish expression, and swallows a mouthful of naan before answering. “No, thank you. I’d like to keep my tongue.”

 

Kita smirks, dipping more naan in his curry. “I’m sure you would.”

 

*

 

It’s nearly eleven by the time they leave, stomachs full and borderline drowsy. Kita retrieves his bike, walking with Kuroo over to the nearest metro station--Okachimachi. It’s as they’re walking that he remembers to ask.

 

“What about you?”

 

Kuroo slows to a halt, pointing to himself. “Me?”

 

“Yeah,” Kita says. “Why Tokyo?”

 

“A lot of reasons,” Kuroo answers, shrugging his bags tighter over his shoulder. “Family’s here. Closer to Kenma if they need anything. My best bro’s at Chuo, which is close to here, too, so we can share living costs. Got decent scholarship and recruitment offers from the university. Best place to practice my English.” He counts the reasons on his fingers as he lists them, becoming more assured with each one. “Best place that has all of the above, and UTokyo’s chemistry program is researching several of my topics of interest.”

 

“Such as?”

 

Kuroo hesitates before launching into whirlwind description of research areas, from cancer to gender to environmental to space, more animated than Kita has seen him yet. Just hearing about all these fields has Kita enthused, wanting to learn more, but it’s a mere two minutes later that they arrive at the station and have to part ways.

 

“This was fun,” Kita says, feeling his mouth curl into a smile. “I’m looking forward to the results from tryouts.”

 

Kuroo grins, elbowing Kita’s arm. “I wouldn’t be too worried if I were you.”

 

Kita’s smile digs into his cheek. “Thank you. Also, if it’s not too much trouble, may I have your number?”

 

Kuroo blinks, eyes widening as his bags tumble off his shoulder. “My number?”

 

“Yeah,” Kita says, withdrawing his phone from his pocket and opening up the ‘new contact’ screen. “I figure I’ll be seeing you pretty often, and would like some more book recommendations. I’m really enjoying _1Q84_ so far.”

 

Kuroo’s hands tremble as they reach for Kita’s phone. “...My number. Okay, yeah. That sounds awesome.” Kuroo enters his phone number, pressing each number quickly and having to backtrack a few times before it’s correct. “That should be right.”

 

Kita sends a quick message. “Let’s check.”

 

There’s a momentary pause while Kuroo pulls out his phone and checks it, expression lighting up after seeing Kita’s message. “Wow.” He looks at Kita, back to the screen, and back to Kita again. “Technology, am I right?”

 

Kita huffs a laugh. “I’m heading this way,” he says, gesturing in the direction of the apartments close to the station. He throws a leg over his bike, tucking his other foot into a pedal. “You’re welcome to talk to me about chemistry anytime.” He waves, grabs the handlebars and pushes off from the street, pedaling into the night, leaving Kuroo staring after him, cheeks flushed pink and a fist clenched around his jacket over his heart.

 

****

 

Kita makes sure to be early to his next literature lecture. Sitting in the same spot in the second row, he pulls Kuroo’s copy of _1Q84_ from his bag, setting it on top of his notebook, and settles back in his chair with a collection of Akutagawa’s short stories.

 

It isn’t long before Kuroo appears, toting his sports bag and backpack, thunking them into the chair next to Kita. “Morning!”

 

Kita turns, offering Kuroo a smile. “Good morning.” He picks up the book with both hands, gently passing it to Kuroo. “Thank you for lending me this. It exceeded my expectations.”

 

Kuroo raises an eyebrow. “That sounds like high praise, coming from you.” He accepts it, tucking it in his bag and withdraws Kita’s _Light, Wind and Dreams,_ handing it over. “The storytelling was beautiful. Do you have anything else by Nakajima?”

 

Grinning, Kita withdraws his copy of _Beast Beneath the Moonlight,_ a collection of Nakajima’s short stories. “Here you go.”

 

“Thanks!”

 

Kita’s smile fades into a neutral expression. “I hear Murakami-sensei is coming out with a new book soon.”

 

“Oya?” Kuroo’s smile widens.

 

“Seems like he’ll be holding a book signing when it debuts in a few months.” Kita shrugs. “Would you like to go?”

 

Kuroo looks ready to burst with excitement. “Yeah! Let’s go, let’s go together…” his voice trails off, cheeks flushing red. “Oh. Yeah, it’s really hot in here. Isn’t it?”

 

Kita’s sides shake with laughter, though no sound emerges. Once the amusement settles, he says, “Yeah, it is a bit warm,” and withdraws his own, recently purchased copy of _1Q84_ from his bag. Holding it up for Kuroo to see, he feels his face flush, but smiles as Kuroo’s eyes brighten. “It’s a date.”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading~
> 
> Liked it? Have a favorite part? Enjoy the characterization? Drop me a comment and let me know! I'd love to hear from you~ 
> 
> I'm also on [Tumblr](https://pinevillagegirl.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ceryna_writes)! feel free to drop in and say hi ^^
> 
> Fun facts about this work: I based the curry restaurant off of a place I visited while I was in Japan! The mutton dopazya curry was absolutely delicious :D Also, Tokyo metro rushhour is scary. Beware.


End file.
